


the world become you

by battour



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Absorption, Consensual, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kink Meme, M/M, Mild Gore, Orgasm Denial, Other, Snuff, Soft Vore, Vore, implied suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battour/pseuds/battour
Summary: Bahamut’s rumbling growl snaps Lucio out of his rapidly escalating thoughts, leaving him scolding himself anew for thinking of such an expression of love in a less than pure manner.
Relationships: Bahamut/Lucio (Granblue Fantasy)
Kudos: 12





	the world become you

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for the gbf kink meme, decided to polish it slightly and post here for archiving purposes. i've never tried this kind of "proper vore", if you will, but hey.
> 
> don't read this is you're not into vore bc that's literally all it's about and you will have a very bad time.

Lucio has half a mind to undress before continuing, but the dragon’s large, rough tongue nudges him impatiently in the side, wetting his clothes with thick saliva. One sharp claw pierces through both the fabric and the skin of his back when it urges him closer to a mouth filled with sharp teeth waiting expectantly in front of him.

The knowledge that their desires align so well fills him with a pleasant warmth, and his hands brush across Bahamut’s stony scales as he smiles up at his master, the very picture of devotion itself. Though he can admit to himself with a sting of shame that the thought of being swallowed whole leaves him more excited than it most likely should.

Can he truly be blamed, however, when he has waited for so painfully long to hear his master’s voice anew? To step into his light, his shadow, and receive his blessing? To—

Bahamut’s rumbling growl snaps Lucio out of his rapidly escalating thoughts, leaving him scolding himself anew for thinking of such an expression of love in a less than pure manner.

“Master, forgive my dawdling,” he says, taking the tip of the dragon’s tongue into his hands and kissing it. With their difference in size, he can hardly fit any of it inside his own mouth, but he takes in as much as he can regardless, sucking on the wet muscle as a gesture of affection and unconditional subservience. By the time he pulls back, he’s breathing heavier, a mixture of their saliva running down his chin in broad trails and dripping on to his clothing. “I just... find myself so elated to be by your side once more.”

He chuckles, somewhat sheepish. The great dragon makes a grunt in response, a heavy exhale of air coming out of the snout with enough force to make Lucio— no, Sahar’s long hair flow behind him. With a gentle pat to what he can reach of Bahamut’s face, he coaxes that giant maw open anew, and makes to climb inside atop the retracted tongue. Stopping halfway to glance at the rows of razor-sharp fangs around him, his legs and feet still hanging out from between two fangs as large as his entire torso, he feels a surge of warm elation in his chest.

His master could close his enormous jaws right now and slice clean through Sahar’s ankles, then chew what would be left of him. Each pointed edge tearing away at his flesh as he’s ripped apart and ground into nothing but a fleshy paste, his bones crushed to rough powder beneath the immense strength of an apex predator’s mouth.

But Sahar’s creator is kind and loving, doing no such thing. The dragon waits, as patient as ever, and he pulls the rest of his weight inside.

Once his weight settles on the slippery mass of muscle, the dragon’s mouth closes behind him, leaving Sahar in near complete darkness, save for a few gaps where fangs have fallen out or been broken off. Scars from many an ancient battle that still linger, prompting him to touch the intact remaining ones in awe despite knowing his master likely cannot feel it. Soon, all the powers that were bestowed upon his speaker shall return to him.

With a silent prayer uttered under his breath, Sahar moves back towards the dragon’s throat, peering into the beckoning darkness as a raw, heady smell wafting up from below fills his nostrils. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest it might threaten to burst out of him.

Should he go headfirst? Let himself be plunged down while facing his ultimate fate? Or should he perhaps go feet first and watch his body be gradually swallowed up by the blackness?

In the end, he is not given a choice, for the dragon suddenly swallows, sending him falling backwards with a startled yelp.

The fall is brief, however, because the walls of flesh around him soon grow more narrow, leaving him helplessly enveloped in their slimy heat as groups of muscles begin to push him downwards. Saliva coats his entire body, soaking his hair and making it stick to his skin. It feels as though every nerve in his body is being set ablaze, the sensation of being cradled by his master’s body so intimately sending waves of ecstasy throughout his being.

Bahamut is every bit as massive as one might imagine a god to be. Getting pushed through his gullet and all the way down into his stomach might take so long that Sahar will be left to suffocate in this wet, hot darkness. And it still would not be enough to kill him, no— it would only leave him light-headed as his lungs ache for air that shall never again fill them. The thought of becoming delirious with no hope of sucking in a revitalizing breath is, alone, more than enough to make an instinctual part of him want to somehow pull himself back up.

A pitiful whimper is all that escapes Sahar as he squirms within his confines, his cock rapidly growing hard in tandem with his rising mixture of excitement and fear. But he can’t even try to relieve himself with both arms pinned to his sides like this, leaving him aching with need, now stuck on the edge of a terrifying climax with the only stimulation being the slippery flesh squeezing down on him.

Oh, it is torture. Sweet, loving torture gifted to him by Bahamut, as if the ancient dragon wants to remind him one last time that nothing about Sahar is his own.

And soon, he will no longer exist as a separate entity.


End file.
